A Night In Dana Scully's Apartment
by JohnDoggettisaBadass
Summary: A conversation before their first time in bed together might have gone something like this. Short, one-shot, no determined timeline, Scully POV.


**A/N: Haven't written one of these in a while but oh boy this is one of my favorites now. Decided to try out a Scully POV. This can take place anytime in the established universe, it's just my idea of a conversation they would have before their first time together. I love it and please leave a review and let me know if you did as well :)**

"Mulder."

Nothing. Not even a murmur of acknowledgement. God, he can be such a man sometimes. He should know by now I'm not buying it. Although in this circumstance I can see how he might think the opposite.

I decide to try again. "Mulder…," letting his name linger on my lips for a second longer than usual.

He must've taken this as a sign to keep going because he doesn't stop his relentless sucking on my neck and God…it's so good I almost don't want him to stop. The way he leaves little kisses on my jawline is making my legs quiver. But deep down I know it's wrong to jump into this and not talk about it. I can't just sleep with him and ditch him in the morning with the intent to never call him again. He's my coworker, my partner, my friend…and currently my only desire in the entire universe, aliens be damned.

I decide to try something that I haven't done for a long time.

"Fox."

He stops almost instantaneously and pulls his lips from my burning skin, bringing his head back so that he can look at me. He doesn't take his hands off my hips but that's okay…for now.

He eyes me strangely for a few seconds obviously waiting for me to give him a reason as to why I stopped him. But right now, as he's staring into my eyes with those beautiful brown marbles of his own I can't remember for the life of me why I stopped him. He lets me go and takes a step back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, as if there was anybody else in my apartment that would overhear him.

There's a few more seconds of tense silence as I try to come up with something, anything, to say to him. He just stands there looking at me and suddenly I realize he's never stopped looking at me like this. He just got done devouring my neck and somehow, he's still looking at me like he does every single day. Is that a good or a bad thing? Is this my trusted partner and closest friend Mulder or is this the guy Mulder who keeps porn on VHS and hasn't slept with a woman in God knows how long?

I put a hand on my forehead, suddenly overcome by an all too familiar heat.

"I need a glass of water…," is all I'm able to say.

He moves around me presumably to the kitchen and returns a few seconds later with a glass of water which he promptly hands me. I nearly yank it from his hands and he, with one hand pressed softly against the small of my back, leads me to my couch. We both sit down and I continue chugging the water, using it as an excuse not to speak. Where the hell do I start?

Luckily, I don't have to.

"Scully," he breathes my name and I feel my temperature spike, whether in anticipation or fear I don't know. As I'm still desperately trying to drink myself through this moment he tucks a loose piece of my hair behind my ear and I shiver at his touch. I see him pull back out of the corner of my eye. God why did I do that? He must think I'm disgusted by him…

"I'm on the edge of my seat here Scully." And there's his inappropriate humor coming into play, trying to relieve the awkwardness of the situation with a stupid quip. I brace myself for whatever sexual innuendo comes out of his mouth next, but it doesn't come. Eventually I lower the glass from my lips and watch my shaky hand place it on the coffee table. I don't turn to face him. I can't bear to look in his eyes right now. I take a deep breath.

"We shouldn't do this…," is all I say and it's a lie. I know it's a lie the moment it comes out of mouth. I need to do it and I need to do it _with him_. Still, there's a large part of me that's uncertain about what it will mean and what it could do. I don't want to ruin what we have because of a primal desire for intimacy. I almost scoff out loud. If only he could hear my thoughts. I doubt he would find me attractive if he knew I referred to sex as a 'primal desire for intimacy'.

He lets out a long sigh and I can feel his eyes on me, searching for an answer as to why. But he doesn't ask. I find myself disappointed that he doesn't ask. Instead he gets up from the couch and brushes past my knees towards the front door. I'm still shaking but I stand up the moment he passes and try to sound as commanding as possible.

"Where are you going?" I request, as if he's the one who owes me an answer.

He stops about two feet away from the front door and turns to face me and it's the first time I'm looking into his eyes in what feels like a thousand years. He doesn't look angry or upset but I recognize this look. It's a look of pity but also…something else. The last time I saw this look from him was when my father died.

"You're right," he says plainly. "I shouldn't have done that. It's unprofessional and I apologize Scully. You know that I care about you but I shouldn't have taken it that far."

I didn't hear anything after 'I care about you' because the way he says it makes me feel like Queen fucking Elizabeth on her golden throne and my knees buckle under his gaze. Unable to move past those four simple words, he turns away, again heading for the door.

"I want you to stay."

I blurt it out before my brain even had time to formulate the thought. But now that I've said it I know it's true. And God the permanence of that sentence frightens me _but it's Mulder._

He's looking at me again, only an arm's reach from the door now but is frozen in that spot. His disheveled brown hair is looking more magnificent than ever and all I want to do is run my fingers through it.

"You're sending me mixed signals Scully," he says.

"Mulder," I start, unsure of where exactly I am going with this. "We should talk about this…,"

"I'm all ears Scully," he replies, not moving from his spot only a foot away from my front door.

"Come here," I say, not quite sure if that's a good idea but right now all I need to do is get him away from that door because I'm not sure if I want him to leave, ever.

He walks back over to where I'm standing in front of my couch and I take both his hands in mine, mainly hoping for any kind of emotional support. We sit down on the couch and his leg leans up against mine; for a moment it reminds me of all the other times he's touched me.

"Your hands are shaking," he says, beginning to rub his thumbs over the tops of my hands, as if that would somehow stop my involuntary twitching.

"Mulder, I'm scared," I admit, closing my eyes, hoping that will shield me from whatever he has to say. Of course, it never works like that with us.

"Of you and I?" He asks.

"Of a lot of things," I reply. "But mostly that yes." The last few words I whisper so quietly because I'm afraid to give validation to what we both already know.

My heart is beating either too fast or too slow because I'm about to have a heart attack on my couch. I've faced secret government shadow agents, devil children, prehistoric parasites and death fetishists but admitting my feelings to Fox Mulder is what's going to kill me.

He exhales another long sigh and lets go of one of my hands. For a brief second I panic because apparently now I'm afraid that he won't touch me at all, but then his fingers are gracing my chin and pulling my head to look in his direction. Our eyes meet and the moment they do I know. I know that whatever he's about to say, he means it.

"I'm never going to leave you Scully," he says softly. "And I can live with it if you don't reciprocate my…feelings. I will live the rest of my life as your platonic coworker if I have too. I will be whatever you want me to be, because all I want is for you to be happy."

I'm at a loss for words. On one hand, it's obvious this conversation is about so much more than deciding whether to have sex tonight. On the other, I've never loved him more than I do right now. I squeeze his hand in mine.

"This might change things," I say, though I know he already knows this.

"It might," he answers, "but we're pretty good with change, in my experience."

He's right. He's never been more right. And I've never been more prepared to admit it. I smile at the irony but also at him because he's looking at me and smiling too.

I shift over on the couch to climb into his lap. I put both hands on his face and he wraps his encompassing arms around me, clutching me to him. I'm smiling all the way until our lips meet again. He's a graceful kisser, letting me take the lead and play with his lips however I want. But I don't press too hard, right now I just want to know one thing.

I pull away and lightly rub my nose on his, at which he chuckles and holds me tighter.

"Do you love me, Mulder?"

There's not a millisecond of hesitation in his voice.

"You have no idea, Scully."

I smile and kiss him again. "I love you too."


End file.
